


Things That Go Bump in the Night

by Geonn



Category: Sanctuary (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Cunnilingus, Dark, F/M, Frottage, Gothic, Halloween, Hand Jobs, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-20
Updated: 2011-10-20
Packaged: 2017-10-24 19:49:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/267204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Geonn/pseuds/Geonn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Helen and James seek solace in one another and are discovered.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Things That Go Bump in the Night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dancing_badly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dancing_badly/gifts).



The fog crept off the Thames and softened the lines of the Sanctuary. Brick became featureless, and the windows were soon dim squares of light against the darkness. Most of the candles had been snuffed earlier, the remaining flames casting gloomy shadows on the walls. Helen left her hair down after her bath, letting it rest on the shoulders of her nightdress. She held the gown off the floor with one hand, exposing her ankles and dainty bare feet. She paused with her fist poised over the door, twisting to look the way she had come. When she knocked, it was quiet enough that it could easily have gone unheard within the room. She planned to wait thirty seconds before she turned and fled.

She didn't have the chance. The door opened a mere ten seconds after she knocked. He was awake, of course he was, and wearing a dressing gown. The lamp was flickering on the table beside his reading chair, and he was holding the book he'd been reading when she so rudely interrupted. He looked at her, the thin lace at the chest of her nightgown, and she wished she had worn a robe. Far too late now.

"I've disturbed you."

"No." He put a hand out to stop her from leaving. It rested on her elbow and she tried to ignore the warmth of his skin. "I was just fighting the urge to come find you." He didn't have to explain why. The past few weeks had been difficult for everybody in the Sanctuary, but for them especially. And tonight, All Hallows Eve, was a night for inhibitions to be cast aside.

"I'd rather not be alone tonight."

"Nor would I." He stepped aside and escorted her into his room. The door closed softly behind her, a definitive click of the latch sealing her inside.

James walked her toward the dim aura created by the lamp. There was only one chair, so she sat on the foot of his bed. He sat beside her, close enough to keep her hands in his but not close enough so that their thighs touched. Helen traced his hand with her thumb. They were rough, blunt fingers. She brought his hand to her lips and kissed the knuckles. He turned his hand around to press his palm to hers.

Their fingers slid together. Hers fit neatly between his. She rubbed the heel of her hand against the cup of his palm, the pad of her thumb circling his. She pushed up, the inside of her fingers sliding against his in a way that felt almost obscene. Skin against skin, soft touches, and he squeezed her hand tightly. James bent down and took the tip of her index finger into his mouth. Helen's breath caught in her throat as his teeth grazed over the tip of her finger before letting it go. Her finger shined in the dim light, wet with his saliva. Helen copied the move with his finger, closing her eyes as she tasted his skin.

His fingers went slack, and Helen dropped her hand just enough to drag her fingertips over his palm. He held his hand perfectly still as she traced the lines like a palm reader. James turned her hand down, folded her fingers into a loose fist, and ran his fingers from her knuckles down to her wrist. Helen wet her lips with her tongue, staring at James face as he stroked her hand. They were doing nothing untoward, and yet... and yet...

James looked up and met her eyes. They laced their fingers together again as Helen whispered his name and leaned in. His bottom lip brushed the corner of her mouth and she felt a chill. Fog suddenly filled the room, and Helen inhaled sharply as she realized what it meant. She twisted away from James and dropped his hand. Eyes wide as they both stared at the man standing between them and the doorway.

Montague John Druitt, her fiancé. James' best friend. The man they were beginning to suspect of the most heinous crime of the age. He had teleported in directly from the street, his clothing wet from the rain. His skin was bone pale, his head bowed as he removed his hat and carefully placed it on the mantle. He shrugged out of his cloak and carefully removed his gloves to reveal hands Helen knew to be capable of the utmost gentleness. Hands that she was beginning to dread were also capable of severe violence.

"John." The word was choked in her throat, and he looked at her as if he hadn't expected her to speak. "You frightened me."

"Didn't expect me back so soon?" His smile was hideous in the dim light, and she was frightened of him. She hated the fear she now felt for the man she had once loved with all her heart. A heart that now pounded as he stepped closer, his footsteps hollow on the floor as he stood before her. He touched her hair, and Helen forced herself to look up into his eyes without flinching. She resisted the urge to reach out for James' hand.

"How could I stay away from a vision as beautiful as you, my dear?" He bent down and kissed her, and Helen's lips parted under his. She kept her eyes open and saw that he did as well. It felt as if her chest was swelling, unable to contain the fear and desire now mingling there. Her fingers curled in the blankets of James' bed. John slid his hand up into her hair and grabbed a shock of it at the base of her neck. He pulled, and she broke the kiss to cry out in surprise and pain. She fell back to avoid losing any hair, and John maintained the distance between them by leaning over the bed. She felt his groin against her thigh, his arousal evident.

James finally broke his paralysis. "Perhaps I should--"

"Stay, James." The voice was like stone striking stone. There was no hint of friendship of bonhomie in the statement. Helen swallowed a lump in her throat and looked at James, who met her gaze and then quickly looked away. John used his free hand to lift Helen's nightdress, exposing first her calves and then her thighs. She blushed red at the thought of being exposed this way in front of James, but she was powerless to stop it. A whispered voice in her mind asked if she truly wanted to stop it.

John stroked her knee, then moved higher on the outside of her leg. He brushed her hip with the back of two fingers. When he grabbed James' hand, his motion was too quick for either Helen or James to see. His hand was suddenly closed around James' wrist, and he drew his hand forward. Helen trembled as John laid James' hand against her thigh. James looked at her and, after a moment, she nodded that it was okay. She wanted this, wanted him, but the reasons to avoid it were too plentiful to ignore. But now, with the option to refrain taken away, she realized how desperately she wanted it.

James stroked her hip, her crotch still covered by the piled folds of her nightgown. Her breasts rose and fell with each deep breath she took, eyes wide as she watched the two men at the foot of her bed. John was kneeling on either side of her knees as he sat up, impossibly tall as he towered over her. He undid the cuffs of his sleeves and rolled them up, exposing his forearms. He put his hand on James' shoulder, slid it down, and then guided his hand into the warm pile of Helen's nightgown.

Helen closed her eyes as they touched her together. First a rough, blunt finger, calloused from writing. James. James' finger was resting on the cleft of her sex. Her face felt frozen as he probed her, teasing the folds until they became wet enough to push between. She felt John's finger then, felt him guiding James further. The tip of one finger became wet, and James moved it to her hood. She trembled as he coaxed her clitoris to erection, spreading her moisture over its head before John pinched it between his thumb and forefinger.

"Tell him what to do."

Helen released the breath she'd been holding in a violent woof, lifting her head so that her chin was against her chest. "Please, John..."

His head was beside James', whose eyes were closed as he concentrated on what he was doing. How many of his fantasies were coming true at that very moment? His touch on her was light, tender, but she felt like her body was tied to his. Her clit melded to his fingertip, and only climax would separate them. Her mouth was dry as she reached out and stroked his hair, cupping his ear. He turned his head into the caress and kissed her inner wrist.

"Kiss me."

"Where." John's voice was a tease.

"Down... there. Kiss me where you're touching."

"Just lips?"

Helen was trembling. "And your tongue. Put it inside of me." This last was spoken as a whisper in response to James inserting the tip of his finger into her before withdrawing. John took James' hand out and took the wet fingers into his mouth. He turned and looked at James for a long moment before leaning in. Helen watched them kiss with an odd mixture of jealousy and arousal, keeping her hand on James' neck as John dominated their kiss. When he pulled back, James kept his mouth open from shock and possibly regret that the moment was over.

"Tell James what you desire, Helen."

"Your lips and your tongue, James... please."

John retreated from the bed. James hesitated for a moment, eyeing John before he shifted his weight. He climbed over Helen's leg, eyes on her face to make sure it was all right with her. At this point, she felt she would have been amenable to anything that helped her climax. James lifted her gown and she pulled it up higher, revealing the thick dark hair of her sex and the pale pink lips hidden underneath. James wet his lips with a pass of his tongue, then bowed his head and kissed her.

His whiskers scratched her thighs and she rolled her head back on her shoulders. She bent her knees and pointed her toes, heels in the air as she lifted her hips against his mouth. She watched him, only his eyes and nose visible as he parted her with the tip of his tongue. Her pubic hair mixed with the dark mass of his beard and Helen's heart skittered against her ribs in a discordant beat.

Behind him, she saw John undress. His flat chest, his lean and muscular abdomen coming into view. The lamp cast dancing shadows across his pale skin. He dropped his trousers and his cock rose from his midsection, an inverted curve that began to rise again at the tip. His cock was pink at the tip, darkening near the base. He was hairless, making his cock look larger as he stroked it to full erection, eyes dark as he watched James taste her.

Helen was still afraid, worried that this was all some sort of game. If she achieved orgasm with James, would John accuse her of being a whore? And if their fears about him proved true, would he treat her as he had treated so many other prostitutes? But oh, God, it felt too good. She gave herself over to the pleasure and put her hand on the back of James' head to push him harder against her. His tongue spread her wide, his breath parting her hair as he exhaled sharply. He curled his tongue inside of her and Helen's eyes rolled back in her head.

John stepped forward. James was bent forward in order to pleasure her, one leg on the floor and the other knee bent on the foot of the bed. John pressed against the curve of James' ass, one hand on his hip and the other still stroking his cock. Only now he was brushing the sensitive head against the smooth material of James' dressing gown. Pre-come smeared across the expensive material until John lifted it and pushed James' sleepwear down.

Helen only breathed once every few seconds, unable to make her body work more than that. John held James' hips, moving against him in a way that slide John's cock against the cleft of James' ass. James tightened his grip on Helen's thighs but didn't stop what he was doing. John licked his fingers and his hand disappeared between his body and James'. Seconds later James cried out and lifted his head from her center. His lips glistened with her arousal, and when he straightened she could see his exposed cock stretching from between the halves of his dressing gown. She couldn't look away from it.

She lay spread-legged, bare from the waist down. Her sex was wet and eager for sex, exposed to the air of the room. She covered it with one hand to protect it from an errant breeze, but she began to stroke herself as John wrapped an arm around James and pulled him backward. John was doing something with his hand behind James, and it caused James to be weak in the knees. He trembled as John moved a hand down and gripped his cock.

Helen touched herself with two fingers as she watched her fiancé stroke her best friend's cock. The head of James' penis was thick and pink, fading to purple as John gripped and teased it. John looked at her over James' shoulder, his eyes still dark but his smile less frightening now.

"She came here to fuck you tonight, James. We wouldn't want to disappoint her, would we?"

He pushed James forward and he fell onto Helen's body. He lifted his head and Helen threw caution aside. They kissed, and she tasted herself on his tongue. He moved forward, nestled between her thighs, the hard length of his cock brushing as it sought out her entrance. Helen stopped stroking herself and wrapped her fingers around his length, guiding him forward. She felt like she was underwater, her lungs crushed by the pressure as she struggled to draw oxygen into them. The blunt tip of him rubbed against her, and Helen was afraid she would come from that alone. She pressed him against her clitoris, teasing herself before she let him move lower.

John climbed onto the bed, pressed against James from behind, and his weight forced James into her. Helen cried out as he sank into her, filling her. He grabbed the material of her nightgown over her stomach, holding tightly to it as she squeezed him. John pulled off James' dressing gown, leaving him bare. His chest was hairy, and Helen pressed a kiss to his nipple from sheer novelty. She circled it with her tongue, sucked it, and nipped at it when it became hard.

James hissed and began breathing through his nose like a bull. Helen spread her fingers on his shoulders and pulled him down, looking at her fiancé as he guided his cock into James from behind. She pressed down as John pressed forward, leaving James exquisitely pinned between them. John wrapped his arm around James and pulled him back, whispering into his ear things that Helen couldn't discern. Not that she was capable of following a conversation right then anyway.

She pressed her shoulders into the mattress, her lower body draped over James' lap, and ran her hands over his chest. He was broader than John, more muscular and hirsute. She placed her hands on his stomach and felt the muscles work as he thrust into her. She put her hands on his hips to guide him, to drive him into her but to also push him back against John. When he was pulling from her, he was further impaled on John. When he retreated from John, he was sinking into her.

Helen's orgasm was shocking and sudden, and she raked her fingernails over James' chest as she bucked against him. She whispered nonsense. "Don't stop," why would they? "Yes, yes," as if they required her approval. She closed her eyes as her body was rocked with tremors, the back of her head burrowing into the bed as she pressed her body down onto James'.

"Now," James whispered, an answer to something John had said unheard by her. John backed away and James pulled out of her. He moved up her body and rested his cock against her mouth. She recoiled at the idea of having it on her tongue, but James simply whispered, "It's all right." He pushed the head of his cock against her mouth and, trusting him, she opened to him. His taste was intoxicating, and he was heavy on her tongue. She tried to be careful with her teeth, but they scraped against the ridge where his head met the shaft.

Helen reached up and made a ring around him with her fingers. He moved her hand to his scrotum, and she filled her palm with the warm weight of it. She felt movement beside her, the mattress sagging as John crouched next to her head. She felt his cock, slender and familiar, resting on her cheek. It was warm and wet, and she knew he'd washed it quickly with a basin of water James kept near the bedside. James' cock fell from her mouth and John's took its place.

She closed her eyes, feeling wanton and wild as the heads of their cocks brushed together between her lips. It happened like an explosion, a sudden shock of moisture and warmth across her bottom lip. It dripped into her mouth and she ran her tongue over it without knowing precisely what she was tasting until another ribbon was spilled directly onto her tongue. It didn't matter which man it was, because the other followed almost immediately. They tasted different, she was surprised to discover. She didn't know why it would seem odd.

Helen allowed them to ejaculate into her open mouth, their cocks brushing obscenely together as she swallowed. She used her tongue to lick away the excess semen from the sensitive pink skin. She sucked James, then John, and then fit them both together into her mouth. One of them cursed under his breath at the sensations.

She circled the tip of James' cock with her tongue, stroking the shaft of John's until he pulled away from her. He stepped off the bed, leaving Helen alone with James crouched beside her head with his penis going soft near her cheek. It suddenly seemed obscene and wrong, and she scooted away from him. He retreated as well, turning away to gather his clothing so he wouldn't be standing naked with them. Helen sat up to demurely cover her thighs, which shined with the evidence of her orgasm, and wrapped her arms around her knees.

John was at the window, looking outside. The fog obscured the city outside, making it look as if they had been transported to somewhere beyond time and place. James and Helen both looked at him, gauging his mood based on his posture. Helen ran her eyes down the dip of his spine, the flat plane of his rear end and his muscular thighs. Helen looked at her hand, finding the nail of her index finger was still wet from James sucking it. Somehow that seemed like a bigger betrayal than letting him come in her mouth and swallowing it. She brushed it off on her nightgown.

"There are a great many things to be afraid of in the night," John said softly.

Helen and James looked at one another but didn't respond.

John vanished without saying another word, popping out of the room so suddenly that Helen jumped and James cried out wordlessly. Alone, James sat on the edge of the bed wearing only a shirt. He kept his back to Helen, who stared at the empty chair and the flickering lamp that had illuminated their dalliance. Perhaps John had never been there at all. Perhaps he was a shared delusion whose appearance had allowed them to do what they so desperately wanted.

Or perhaps his arrival here, now, in the midst of their suspicions, was a way of pushing them together so it would hurt less if they were forced to take drastic actions.

Helen reached out to James and touched his shoulder. He covered her hand with his, and their fingers laced together. Helen put her head down on her knees and closed her eyes. They sat together in the dark, in silence, waiting until it felt right to separate. Eventually, James stretched out on one side of the mattress and Helen lay behind him. She spooned against him from behind, and they fell asleep without another word.


End file.
